Sir Michael Parkinson passes

 Sir Michael Parkinson passes

He became one of the most instantly recognisable figures on British TV throughout the 1960s and 1970s. His voice was simply unmistakable and we could all relate to him in a way that hardly seemed possible. Besides, there were no chat show programmes on TV when he first started and none of the hard hitting interviewers who could handle all of the questions we might have wanted to ask. But he did and we were pleasantly surprised. None of us could have foreseen the extraordinary impact his chat show would have on the rest of the nation.

Yesterday Michael Parkinson died at the age of 88 and for some of us this truly marked the end of an astonishing era in broadcasting and journalism. He was the one figure we could always trust and turn to on a Saturday night during the 1970s when Match of the Day had finished and we were confronted by a man who thrived on confrontation without any malice. For the BBC it must have felt as though they'd landed the biggest jackpot of all time. Parkinson had arrived in the building and would remain there for the next four decades, a broadcasting giant who would tower over the TV landscape like an emperor presiding over his kingdom.

Every Saturday night the man with Barnsley blood in his veins would grill his equally as famous subjects in the most probing of all interrogations. His legs were invariably crossed, shirt, suit and tie immaculately presented and clipboard replete with questions that we might have wanted to ask given half the chance. They were sharp, piercing, frequently fascinating meetings, highly amusing ones and those loaded with facetious sarcasm. Parky would get right under the skin of a whole sequence of Hollywood A Listers and of course those wonderful actors, actresses, dancers and singers that had once captured his imagination as a blossoming news journalist and then a genuinely hard hitting inquisitor.

The stories now are endless and well chronicled. We all know that Parkinson always modelled himself on Humphrey Bogart with that rakish trilby hat on his head, phone in one hand and the gift of the gab on the other. We have now discovered that journalism was always in his bones, the result of a lifelong affection for Lauren Bacall, James Cagney, James Stewart and all of those celebrities from the golden age of Hollywood. Parky was driven, well motivated and clearly determined to find out every salient detail of those he was relentlessly interviewing.

And so it was that he rolled up at Granada Studios in Manchester in the early 1960s, fresh faced, enthusiastic, desperate to be among the same company as Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones, glamorous film heavyweights in the industry and just curious to know what made them tick. He would produce and host a TV programme called Cinema, which is self explanatory. Parky loved the movies, the lighting technicians, the cameramen and women who brought visibility to the whole structure of it all and then the directors who would abruptly snap their clapperboards when the film and scene was complete.

But then a far sighted BBC TV executive and ideas man or woman thought the time was ripe for an innovative chat show and knew that Michael Parkinson was the man for the job. His journalistic background had opened so many doors for him that by the time he walked into a TV studio for the first time in June 1971 all the omens were encouraging. For the next couple of decades Parkinson dominated Saturday nights with his easy going fusion of witty banter, humorous anecdotes, the charm offensive and what would become a frequently provocative late night chat show.

The guests came thick and fast. There was the unknown Scottish comedian who also doubled as a folk musician but would go on to become the funniest and most captivating comic genius of all time. Billy Connolly, at first dipping his toes in comedy waters tentatively with his first mild innuendo, proceeded to provide us with hilariously physical comedy and genuinely creative stories from his working class  origins in Glasgow's thriving shipyards. There was something different and original about Connolly's style and Parkinson warmed to his Scottish friend as if they'd known each other since birth.

Over and over again Connolly would stomp down the stairs and head for the big chair, outrageous at times but lovably outlandish in his clothes. Then Muhammad Ali would return again and again much to the delight of boxing fans but also a magical presence wherever he went in the world. Ali would be at his most argumentative, lively, expressive and forthright. In fact in one of his many interviews with the Louisville Lip, Parky would challenge Ali about his contentious views on the black civil rights movement. It was a moment in history that all who'd witnessed it will always remember. Ali protested loudly and furiously about the direction America was going and then the sparks flew.

But there was something comforting about those late night chats under the BBC lights. It almost felt as though you were being invited into Michael Parkinson's living room such was the intimacy of the show's environment. There were of course those memorable face to face conversations that none could ever forget. We were indeed privileged to be associated with these weekly forums with the great and the good. 

There was Parky's clash with entertainer Rod Hull and his annoying Emu puppet where what should have been an otherwise ordinary discussion turned into a living nightmare for the Yorkshire talk show host. Suddenly this ridiculous looking puppet would lunge towards Parky before attacking him with unbridled aggression, grabbing hold of Parky in the ugliest of strangleholds. Then there were the uncomfortable encounters such as Hollywood icon Meg Ryan when the When Harry Met Sally star refused to open up on her life, giving the clearest indication that she didn't really want to be on the show with Sir Michael. Ryan then chose to clam up in the most repressed fashion. Finally Parky seemed to wave the white flag of surrender.

After his last Parkinson show, featuring the Sirs Billy Connolly, David Attenborough and Michael Caine, Michael Parkinson wound down his career with his very own Radio 2 Sunday show, where he was given a natural platform for playing his favourite kind of jazz, the American songbook and the great Hollywood music composers such as George Gershwin and Cole Porter. A brief spell on local radio followed and then gentle retirement. It had been the most distinguished career as firstly a news journalist and then nationwide fame on the Parkinson show. There was nothing pretentious about the man because you knew what you were going to get. There was always a groundedness and straightforwardness about the man all of us found we could identify with.

His lifelong friend and cricket umpire Dickie Bird had always been his most faithful confidant when things might not have gone according to plan. For almost an eternity Parky had become established as one of the most attentive and understanding of  listeners and we had now expressed an enduring admiration for this master talker. Goodbye Sir Michael Parkinson. You were the best and greatest interview host of all time and Saturday nights will always be treasured. Thank you Sir.